The Parables: The Yeast

Over half of the available food on Earth is derived from grains. Your diet in a developed country is less grain dependent, whereas diets in impoverished countries are likely closer to 80-90% grains. One thing that’s very interesting about this is that, although we are all using similar ingredients, every culture has a very unique way of preparing the things we eat, whether it’s cereals, pastas, or some type of bran meal.

Bread, however, is a staple, even in cultures where there isn’t bread the same way that we might have it here in the States. There’s almost always a single-grain or simple-grain food that’s a staple and primary means of sustenance, whether it’s a baguette paired with a French wine and cheese, or a bratwurst in a pretzel bun with a German wheat beer, or even a Danish or other confectionery creation at a bakery with an espresso. Maybe even it’s a good ol’ crust to add some stability to something as American as apple pie or a Chicago deep dish.

While there’s no universality to bread across cultures, it’s one of those things that, in every culture, becomes a daily, ordinary, everyday—even becoming a monotonous and repetitive cycle of sustenance. Bread, rice, naan, or whatever the bread formulation is in any given culture, what’s really important to see is that this is cross-cultural; this applies everywhere, to everyone.

Today, continuing our “Parables of Jesus Series,” we look at the “Parable of the Leaven.” It is the shortest of all the parables, one that is usually lumped in with the example preceding it, the Parable of the Mustard Seed, but after studying it, it has become, perhaps, my favorite so far. The richness of this illustration is literally worth 1,000 words… but as that would really only make for a 6–8-minute message, today we’ll prove it’s worth even more than that!

To get a sense of how the first hearers of Jesus’ teaching would resonate in first-century Judea, I think it really helps to start with the story of Ruth.

Bethlehem means “house of bread.” If you remember Ruth’s mother-in-law Naomi, who was an Israelite, she and her husband and family left Bethlehem because it had become a place of famine. There was no bread in the house of bread. So, they leave Bethlehem and go to a non-Israelite country for nourishment and sustenance. Her sons marry Moabites, non-Israelite women, and in the loss of her husband and her sons, she gains these two daughters-in-law. One of them—Ruth—decides to come back with her to Bethlehem once the famine is over, so they head back to Bethlehem—the house of bread, and they are provided for by Boaz.

What’s interesting here is that there’s a very intentional connection Jesus is making to their history and origin stories, to the way that bread works, the way that it’s made, and the way he’s applying it to their current situation, and how he is instructing them to go about life.

So, before commercial yeast was commercially available, which wasn’t the case until the 19th century—that’s the 1800s—all bread was sourdough, and it was made of flour and water. Through fermentation, it becomes yeast— so it’s not just how to make hooch; it is the leaven for bread that you knead into your dough. It’s what makes the dough rise.

Now, while experts attribute leavening bread to the Egyptians, we also know the Israelites leavened their bread because the Old Testament describes their exodus from Egypt as happening so quickly that they only had time to bake bread without leavening it first. This is why the Passover is observed with, and is also referred to, as the “Festival of Unleavened Bread.”

So, this is rich language, both full of their history but also full of meaning and connection to everyday life. As with the Parable of the Lost Sheep and that of The Lost Coin, Bible commentator Ben Witherington suggests that this parable is part of a pair and that it shares meaning with the preceding parable, that of the mustard seed, namely the powerful growth of the Kingdom of God from small beginnings; additionally, that the final outcome is inevitable once the natural process of growth has begun.

In Witherington’s formulation, Jesus first describes Kingdom work in terms of the agricultural activities of men, as we see in Matthew chapter 13, verses 31–32, and Luke chapter 13, verses 18–19, which illustrate the cultivation of a garden. The second, which immediately is followed with a focus on women’s domestic activities, the bread making that we examine today in the Parable of the Yeast, found both in Matthew 13:33 and Luke 13:21. All of two verses total; the second really only a repeat of the first, just Luke’s telling of the same analogy used by Jesus. For this reason, as I said earlier, many people pair them in the same parable, but they’re quite different, and for that reason, we’ve separated them in our series.

Back to the background—before Ruth and Boaz, and if you read Judges, there are many cycles of new beginnings. In fact, God is constantly competing with the Israelites and their hunger for anything other than His provision. In the very beginning, there is a garden full of fruit and vegetables; what there perhaps wasn’t, observed by Abigail Dodds in her book Bread of Life, is what Adam and Eve had cultivated up to this point. We don’t know. I wonder if they were chopping up their apples and making apple pie? We just know that the food is coming to them off the tree and ready to eat, or so it seems.

But bread is clearly a cultivated food. It’s something that you have to make. It doesn’t come to you on a tree. It doesn’t grow out of the ground. You have to take those grains of wheat, grind them up, mix them; there are multiple processes involved to get to bread.

It’s the cultivating that’s cursed. When God says, “Your bread will come by the sweat of your brow,” it’s that cultivating process that He says is going to be difficult. The serpent comes to Eve, twisting God’s words and repeating to her the commandment, “Did God really say don’t eat from any tree?” But He didn’t say, “God said don’t eat from this tree,” did he? He had said, “God said don’t eat from any tree.” He’s already twisting and exaggerating to make God look neglectful, withholding provision for them. So, when Eve buys into what he’s saying, they’re ultimately rejecting the provision of God in favor of becoming self-providers.

What’s ironic is that they steal from their own garden. Eve steals something about which God has said, “You can’t take.” The garden belongs to them. They were told to tend it. In one sense, everything in the garden is put there for them, yet one tree is prohibited. As parents, we all understand there are things in the house that our children live in—it’s their house—but there are some things that are off-limits for them. Maybe for a time or a season, maybe forever. We don’t know whether God would ever give her the fruit of that tree eventually, but they don’t believe that God is a good provider, so they provide for themselves. What Dodds’ observes is that it’s the very provision that becomes cursed.

In the same way, God brings the Nation of Israel to a place where He is going to provide for them, and rather than trust that—or even receive the provision he gives, which is miraculous bread raining down from heaven—they decide they’re sick of it. A group demanded from God meat, saying they were sick and tired of this manna. They wish they were back in slavery in Egypt. They wished for the meat and the vegetables that they had there because it was so much better. This is the condition of the human heart. This is what we are supposed to see in these stories. We are longing to go back to slavery when we cannot see that God’s provision is good and for us, and ultimately, his kindness is in it. The takeaway is that God doesn’t prevent them from getting what they beg for. Just like He didn’t stop Eve from taking the fruit, the Israelites demand meat, and he goes along with it.

Now, in the same way, that they later demand a king like their neighboring countries, God’s faithfulness to them in the midst of their wickedness isn’t affirmation. It shows His goodness, not ours. What we should take away from that is, in every way, God compares us to Him through allusion, husbands and wives, His church as His bride; we are to be like that. We are to love people and journey with them, be present with them, even in their sin—but it’s not the same as celebration. It’s not ordination, and it’s not a blessing. It’s out of His faithfulness, and we should be faithful, is what that metaphor of family means when He uses it. We long to go back to slavery when we cannot see that God’s provision is good and for us.

So, the Israelites demand meat, and God holds them accountable for their sin. He judges them in that moment bygiving them what they want. The judgment was giving them what they wanted. Again, what a lesson for us that we can ask for things, and sometimes the reception of those things is a judgment on us. God may give us what we want, and it may not turn out at all the way we thought. That, too, is judgment. So that’s what happens to them, and he graciously continues to walk with them even after that. The irony of manna in the New Testament is that they beg for that same thing: If only we had manna coming down from heaven, surely, we would believe, Jesus, that you are the Son of God, John 6:30-31.

Cultivating a loaf of sourdough is not a quick venture. It depends on a natural process; it can’t be rushed. It requires either a starter or making your own yeast. Many people share sourdough starters, and people boast of their starter’s lineage, many linked to historical events, the Mayflower, the 1849 gold rush, the oldest being one created from a 4,500-year-old yeast. Once a starter is “proven,” they’re even often named! Either way, a starter is either begun or an existing one fed, the latter being a much shorter process than waiting for a new culture to develop and bubble. The starter is then kneaded into the dough; you have to wait for the dough to rise before you shape it, and then, finally, you bake the dough.

This process cultivates patience and self-control. It is a slow food in a world that loves to be immediately gratified. God further requires dependence on Him from the Israelites in that, in celebrating the Passover, families must ensure that their houses are completely empty of leaven. They had to begin with a new yeast culture or starter every year. In this, they were renewing and acknowledging their dependence on Him.

This is what those listening to Jesus heard. As an analogy, Yeast is used quite a few times throughout the New Testament. It’s really the use of the parable as a teaching example that we’re looking at in this series; it’s significance, utility, and application for us today, so I think it’s certainly helpful to include all of its uses in our consideration. After all, it’s the analogy that’s passed down as a teaching example in communicating a principle that gives parables their significance in the first place.

Because, more often than this one-verse Scripture that we have today, “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into about sixty pounds of flour until it worked all through the dough…” are examples of leaven used in a negative light.

The disciples are recorded trying to make sense of this very example in Matthew 15:5-12

5 The disciples reached the other shore, and they had forgotten to take bread. 6 Then Jesus told them, “Watch out and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

7 They were discussing among themselves, “We didn’t bring any bread.”

8 Aware of this, Jesus said, “You of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves that you do not have bread? 9 Don’t you understand yet? Don’t you remember the five loaves for the five thousand and how many baskets you collected? 10 Or the seven loaves for the four thousand and how many large baskets you collected? 11 Why is it you don’t understand that when I told you, ‘Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees,’ it wasn’t about bread?” 12 Then they understood that he had not told them to beware of the leaven in bread, but of the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees.

I had this friend in my first year in Seminary; looking back, it’s ironic that his name, too, was Adam. In the midst of the culmination of our struggles with finals as well as what I didn’t know about his personal life, revealing to me that he had actually run away to Seminary, avoiding the stigma and responsibility of the child he had conceived out of wedlock, this girl having recently given birth, he had many, many more things he was dealing with than just our finals. To complicate matters, I was, unbeknownst to me, heaping on his shame, as my wife and I had recently had our first baby, one that we openly talked about, so it was all the more convicting to him. So, when he finally confided in me about that, I think he was dealing with the hurt that he had caused his—now ex-girlfriend and mourning the relationship that he now doesn’t have with his newborn child.

In trying to console him, it was also clear that ministry was something he wasn’t going to give up. I advised him that there are only two ways this plays out. Either it creates a whole controversy, poisoning any future credibility for himself when it eventually is revealed. Or, he deals with it. I told him it could even be a part of your testimony—a praise report, but only if it is a successful campaign—a lesson learned, a triumph. You can frame it as a resume bullet, just like Mayor Martin; it can be a part of your platform, but you have to get in front of it, you have to own it, and you have to learn from it.

Let’s be clear—Past sin is in the past only when it is properly dealt with. If you have skeletons in your closet, they will be found, and then it will be anything but a resume bullet. It will damage your witness, it will potentially hurt other people, and it will leave you with nothing but regret. I’m not even saying that coming clean will be painless. Rather, that it’s different.

That’s a use of the leaven analogy found in the teachings of Jesus. Paul capitalized on that analogy, teaching that the goal in church discipline is restoration, that people will see their sin and return to Christ, that sin will not spread further like leaven, used in 1 Corinthians 5, “hand that one over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, so that his Spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord. 6 Your boasting is not good. Don’t you know that a little leaven leavens the whole batch of dough?”

In the big-picture use of the analogy of bread in the story of God’s provision to His people—Ruth is brought into the house of bread, into the family, and then finds herself as a matriarch in the lineage of Jesus. It’s from that same house of bread that Jesus would be born—an incredible foreshadowing of Jesus coming from the house of bread as the Bread of Life.

That nourishment aspect that He is the provision of our lives, a redemption of the very thing that was cursed. If you want to be alive, you have to eat the bread. You cannot live without the bread. That metaphor for Jesus being our life means that without daily sustenance from Jesus, we cannot live. When you go through and think that Jesus is our Creator—we’re told in Colossians that all things were made through Him and for Him—and this Creator, Jesus, who sustained us and gave us provision in creation, is continuing to sustain us by His own body forever for those who are in Him. He is the sustenance and provision that we need for life. The dailiness is key. We see it in how the Disciples were taught to pray, “Give us this day our daily bread.” They’re praying for our daily physical provision of bread so that they don’t starve, and then to later hear Jesus say, “I am the Bread.” It’s powerful, it’s all-encompassing, and how Disciples shape their lives.

One thing I want to really emphasize is that if we can’t make the connection between bread, Jesus, and the Word of God, we’re going to fall short of receiving Him as our sustenance.

What does it look like right now for me to eat that bread, the bread of life? In looking at communion, Jesus breaks bread and says, “This is my body broken for you.” But also, Jesus says that man doesn’t live by bread alone; what he’s really talking about is the provision—man doesn’t live by man alone. Cultivation—but by every word that comes from the mouth of God. He’s making a connection between spiritual sustenance from God’s word to the food that we eat for bodily sustainment. That the Bible that we have sitting on our desks or shelves is where our soul’s sustenance comes from, not our cursed self-provision.

So, we have this object lesson, where a comparison is drawn between the growth of The Kingdom of God from small beginnings in both The Parable of the Mustard Seed and The Parable of the Yeast. And, although leaven symbolizes evil influences elsewhere in the New Testament, it’s not generally interpreted that way here in this parable.

There are two main points:

First, in the current age, the Kingdom of Heaven is the Kingdom of God the followers of Jesus are establishing on Earth, existing within the hearts of believers.

At first, it’s small; yeast is microscopic in size, but only a little is kneaded into the dough. There’s an intentional double meaning here, in that God is the beginning, He’s the source of provision, but also in that God uses people, there are historical starters, and the Church traces its origins to the early followers of Jesus. We have a tradition that’s passed down. We are, in a sense, responsible for kneading our beliefs, guarding orthodoxy, and weaving it into the dough that will let the next generation rise and become the church; they then doing the same for their successors.

The Parable of the Mustard Seed illustrates how, outwardly, the Kingdom expands from an insignificant beginning to a splendid end. So, Jesus chooses the smallest seed possible to say that, yes, these are seemingly small beginnings, but the fruit that is born in the Kingdom will lead to a splendid end. The idea of small beginnings leading to unimaginable expansion fits what we’ve already seen in the Parables, beginning with a baby in a manger.

So, the first point is that metaphor, on a personal level, the Kingdom starts off as a culture in your heart. It slowly works its way through your thoughts, beliefs, affections, motives, and actions. It then works through you into others’ lives and through them into still others’ lives. In this way, just as we have seen in the other parables, the point Jesus makes here is that the Kingdom of Heaven slowly advances throughout the world.

While not explicitly communal, the Parable of the Mustard Seed alludes to birds finding shelter in the plant, suggesting it as being sought as a place of refuge for various creatures—it symbolizes a diverse community. Whereas the Yeast is portrayed as underscoring the communal aspect through the image of the entire lump of dough being leavened, indicating a collective transformation within a community.

Given time, the yeast will spread through all the dough. In the same way, the ministry of Jesus started with twelve men in an obscure corner of Galilee; it spread throughout the world, becoming the most prominent religion, with Pew research putting that number around 2 billion.

Although invisible in the present time, the Kingdom of God grows invisibly, Yeast does its job slowly, secretly, and silently, but no one can deny its effect on bread. The same is true of the work of grace in our hearts. The warning is that the same is true of whatever is in our hearts. Hate, too, can be a leaven. Jesus says that out of the mouth comes the overflow of the heart. As if that weren’t plain enough, James adds clarification that it can be both blessings or curses.

The nature of yeast is to grow and to change whatever it contacts. When we accept Christ, His grace grows in our hearts and changes us from the inside out. As the gospel transforms lives, it exerts a pervasive influence on the world at large. As we “reflect the glory of the Lord,” as 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, “. . .the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.”

The second point is that, in this illustration, the Kingdom of God exerts its influence from within; it’s not an external pressure. Yeast makes dough rise from the inside. God first changes the heart of a person, and that internal change has external manifestations. The gospel influence in a culture works the same way: Christians within a culture act as agents of change, slowly transforming that culture from within by living the change, not forcing change on others. Rather, through being themselves, the leaven, the world will be blessed by the Kingdom of God just as yeast works until the dough has completely risen; the ultimate benefit of the Kingdom of God being a societal benefit, a reconciliation with purpose and hope; a belonging in sonship and rest and an end to our slavery to our sense of self-provision, self-sustainment, and self-perpetuating identity crisis due to the lostness that we experience while perusing all of it to ultimate futility.

The application here is that we are to be Confident. Recall Gamaliel’s Advice to the Sanhedrin in Acts 5.

35 “Men of Israel,” he said, “consider carefully what you are about to do to these men. 36 Some time ago Theudas rose up, claiming to be somebody, and about four hundred men joined him. He was killed, all his followers were dispersed, and it all came to nothing. 37 After him, Judas the Galilean appeared in the days of the census and drew away people after him. He too, perished, and all his followers were scattered.

38 So in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone. Let them go! For if their purpose or endeavor is of human origin, it will fail. 39 But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop them. You may even find yourselves fighting against God.”

And that was two thousand years ago. This parable gives us a picture of the Kingdom’s spread. This side of the Kingdom’s advance is not only about an outward expansion but an inward growth. The Kingdom is growing—even if our churches aren’t. Sometimes, it may be visible; other times growing invisibly. It means we shouldn’t measure our success by what we see. The Lord may give us great numbers in a great harvest, or he may be kneading yeast into the dough in ways we cannot see. It also means we will one day see all the branching success of God’s Kingdom. We can do the work of evangelists with faith and confidence because we know the Kingdom grows even if we can’t see it yet.

The third point, if there’s a third point, is to be conscious of what we’re sewing. If you think about leaven as a bad thing—it means that there’s something that looks the same as the good thing, but it’s working its way through—all the way through. Leaven is something that’s hidden. Leaven is the starter kneaded into a lump of dough; that’s one of the main qualities of leaven. You can’t see it. It works through, and you can’t see it until you can, and by then, it’s already worked all the way through. What I mean by ‘until you can’ is that, at some point, it will do something to the whole dough. So, it’s going to rise; it will become completely saturated with that leaven. Having worked itself through—you can understand why Jesus would use that as a metaphor for hypocrisy because hypocrisy is hidden. That’s the whole point of hypocrisy. You’re putting a front up when you’re something else on the inside. You’re all dressed up on the outside while you’re full of sickness and disease inside. That’s what the Pharisees were doing, and that’s why Jesus says this is the kind of leaven that the Pharisees are working through. It is a diseased, false idea of what holiness is. He warns over and over against it because it takes spiritual discernment to see hypocrisy. You can’t see it with the eyes on your face. This is why God had the Israelites toss out their yeast every year—get replenished. Come back to the source empty and let me provide. Don’t use the starter that’s made a name for itself somewhere else. As leaven, those starters look the same as dough, but it’s doing something. That’s good if you’re spreading the love of Christ.

Passover is an opportunity to check yourselves. Many Christians return to a metaphorical desert every year in observance of lent, routing out old leaven internally. If you’re tolerant of any kind of hypocrisy, it will spoil everything it touches. It is a powerfully active ingredient that does not stay put. It’s a spreading agent; it’s pervasive.

In the same way, negative heart attitudes will slowly ruin your soul. Guard against a focus on this world—what you can obtain and achieve in the here and now. It will blind you to the world to come. Focus on what matters for all of eternity by fixing your eyes on Jesus Christ.

Jews keep observing the festival to this day; perhaps they’ve lost some significance in the repetition, void of reflection on its implications. Unironically, Jesus was, as portrayed in the Gospel of John, the Passover sacrifice Himself, another unseen work, but one with implications that echo throughout eternity.

So, we have a choice. The themes present in this rich picture provided by Christ collectively emphasize the idea that encountering the Kingdom of God through faith results in a transformative process. It has inspired countless New Testament authors and early Church fathers to advocate for the renewal of our minds. Paul says to the Romans:

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2)

We have this underlining theme about becoming transformed:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

We’re presented with this idea of the Spirit producing fruit in the life of believers that corresponds to the internal, character-transforming work of the Kingdom:

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

This example also describes the process of sanctification, becoming more like Christ:

“May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Thessalonians 5:23-24)

We’re encouraged to continue growing and being transformed in Christ, reflecting the ongoing nature of the Kingdom’s influence through the example of the yeast.

“So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.” (Colossians 2:6-7)

All of these themes are from different authors, and all longer than the text of the parable itself, all the more emphasizing the weightiness of the teacher’s words. Collectively, they underscore the idea that encountering the Kingdom of God through faith results in a transformative process that shapes individuals and communities from within, much like the leavening process of yeast.

Today, my hope for you is that you leave here encouraged by the words of Jesus. In a world where elaborate and visible actions often receive attention, this yeast parable encourages the church, especially smaller congregations or individuals, by highlighting the potency of even the seemingly modest contributions, underscoring impactful transformation from humble beginnings.

In a culture that often prioritizes external appearances and rapid success, the yeast parable draws attention to the importance of internal, character-transforming work within individuals and communities. It encourages the church to focus on spiritual growth and the gradual formation of Christ-like character.

Finally, in a world that values immediate results and achievement, the yeast parable teaches the virtue of patience and trust in God’s timing. We are reminded that the transformative work of the Kingdom is a gradual process. By highlighting the communal aspect of the yeast leavening the entire lump of dough, the parable emphasizes the collective transformation within the church. The yeast parable reinforces the idea that the work of the Kingdom is continuous. It encourages the church to commit to ongoing transformation, individually and corporately. This involves consistently pursuing spiritual maturity, discipleship, and a willingness to be shaped by God over time, seeking his provision rather than self-reliance.

By emphasizing the permeating nature of yeast in the dough, this parable challenges the church to integrate faith into every aspect of life. This includes relationships, work, and the way we engage our neighbors. It prompts believers to intentionally live out their faith in a way that impacts and transforms the various areas of their existence.

In summary, the yeast parable serves as a timeless and practical reminder for the church today, offering guidance on humility, patience, communal growth, and the ongoing transformative work of the Kingdom of God. It encourages believers to embrace their role as agents of positive change and influence in the world.

Before I end, I encourage you so that we, too, don’t observe the ritualistic repetition without reflecting on the implications, forsaking the significance this season has to offer. Visit your desert place, whatever that looks like for you. Don’t long to go back to the slavery of Egypt, the self-procurement sought out by Israel and in the garden. Look and see that God’s provision is good and for us. Clean out your abode—empty yourself of old leaven and be filled with the fresh bread of life, Jesus.